An Unexpected Revelation
by Knowing Grace
Summary: Miss Marianne Dashwood has an unexpected revelation. One-shot.


**Hola, peoples! I'm back again with another one-shot!**

 **Disclaimer: I still don't own _Sense and Sensibility_ or _Much Ado About Nothing._ They both belong to Jane Austen and the Bard, William Shakespeare. No copyright infringement is intentional.**

* * *

 _ **An Unexpected Revelation**_

 _ **by Knowing Grace**_

"Marianne! Marianne! Colonel Brandon is come!" Cried my younger sister as she burst into the parlour with all the elegance of a full-grown bull in a china shop.

"Margaret! Whatever have you been doing?" Mama asked when she had sufficiently recovered from her surprise. Margaret had the good grace to blush; her curly hair was windblown, her frock smudged liberally with grass stains. Her hands and shoes were coated in thick, fresh mud.

"Ummm..."

Fortunately for her, Betsy chose that moment to come into the room, and bob a quick curtsey.

"Colonel Brandon, ma'am." She announced, and then moved to the side to allow the good man to enter the chamber. He bowed and his polite gesture was returned in the form of curtsies from my sisters, mother and myself.

"Colonel, what a pleasure it is to see you." Said Mama; her gaze flickered to Margaret for an instant to silently inform her that she may have been saved from having to explain away her waif-like appearance by the advantageous arrival of our guest, but she would still have to provide an answer at a later time.

"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, Madam." He responded, smiling in just such a way that a small dimple appeared in his left cheek. I, never before having witnessed such a bright smile from the seemingly perpetually somber man, became somewhat entranced by its unexpected appearance. Though he was five and thirty—inwardly I grimaced when I recalled naming him infirm early on in our acquaintance—he was quite handsome and there was a gentleness about him that I had rarely witness in members of his sex before, nor in my own for that matter. His brown eyes sparkled with life and something else...an emotion I dared not put a name to, and yet, suddenly, I felt myself drawn to this man who had seemed to be far too old to consider as husband material for a girl of merely seventeen years, like myself.

"...think, Miss Marianne?" I nearly started as I regained my senses; to my utter mortification, I realized that I had been gawking at the man throughout the entirety of his discourse.

"I-I beg your pardon?" I asked, feeling the heat of embarrassment warming my cheeks.

Another brilliant smile was bestowed upon me, and if I had not steeled myself against such an action, I surely would have missed his inquiry a second time.

"I was simply wondering if you would like to finish our reading of _Much Ado About Nothing_. I have brought my own volume so we would not have to share, for just such a purpose; if, that is, you are not opposed to the idea...?"

"Oh! No, I would appreciate that very much, Colonel. If you will allow me a moment to collect my copy, I shall join you under our tree presently." I quickly fled the room as colour once more infused my features.

 _Our tree?_ The Colonel certainly did  not belong to me, so why had I unwittingly linked myself to him in such a way?

 _Our tree_. The words echoed in my mind, and a tiny portion of my heart took pleasure in the thought. I quickly quashed such a ridiculous notion. The Colonel did not love me. He still pined for his lost sweetheart, Eliza. In fact, I had once refused to speak to him unless in company, due to the tittle tattle of Sir John Middleton and his incredibly vulgar mother-in-law, Mrs. Jennings. He was just extending kindness to me in offering to read aloud some of my favourite plays and poems.

 _Wasn't he...?_

I shook my head, banishing the thought to the back of my mind. Of course, it was only out of kindness. I was not the first, poor girl to have been drawn in by the wiles of _that man_. Thoughts of the wretched Miss Williams and her illegitimate son came to mind. No, the Colonel only felt it his duty to bestow charity upon another female who had been ridiculed by the _ton_ for believing herself to be in love with such a rake. That was all.

Once I had managed to compose myself, forcing the word _friend_ to float to the forefront of my thoughts, I snatched up my book and was just about to make my way down the stairs when I caught sight of the Colonel through my bedroom window. He had thought to drape a blanket over the slightly soggy ground and had even set aside a basket, which I knew from his previous visits to be filled with tasty morsels should our reading extend beyond the midday meal hour. Such thoughtfulness touched a tender part of my soul and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to dream that perhaps it was more than kindness and friendship that brought him hither to Barton Cottage with such frequency. But I set that particular fantasy aside, and bounded down the steps and out the front door to meet him.

He smiled upon seeing me and tipped his hat in a gallant gesture that started a swarm of butterflies to fluttering within my stomach. Nodding my head demurely, I settled down on the blanket, willfully keeping myself from sitting closer to the man who strangely inspired such new feelings within me.

"Now, shall we begin where we left off?"

I nodded, afraid to speak lest I say something that, at a later date and time, I might regret.

"Very well then." He said, flipping open a well worn copy of the Bard's favoured comedy. "Hmmm...where were we?" He muttered, a frown creating wrinkles on his forehead that, to my utter shame, made him appear all the more handsome to my eyes.

"In the middle of act four, scene one." I said, relieved that he had not noted the breathless way in which I had spoken.

"Ah! Yes, you are correct. I believe the priest had just exited the stage, leaving Benedick and the fair lady Beatrice alone."

I turned my attention to my own copy of _Much Ado About Nothing_ , removing the piece of lace I had used to mark our stopping place.

"Are you ready?" He asked and I replied in the affirmative. "Very well." He cleared his throat and sat up straight, his fine brows swooping into an expression of concern. "Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?"

"Yea, and I will weep a while longer." I responded, reading the part of the heroine aloud.

"I will not desire that."

"You have no reason. I do it freely."

"Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged..."

And, thus, on we went and for a while, I was able to forget my attraction to the man sitting beside me—but only for the briefest of minutes.

"I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?"

For a moment, my heart ceased to beat and I felt my gaze being drawn, most unwillingly, towards the Colonel as an unexpected revelation burst upon me.

I was in love with him. I was in love with Colonel Brandon—the last man in the world I had thought could make me happy.

Oh, it was not the same hot-blooded, fiery passion that I had experienced when I was with Willoughby. No, that paled in comparison with this. It was more temperate and yet, it seemed to me deeper. It was as if what I had felt for Willoughby had been merely a shallow creek, but the emotions tumbling within me for the Colonel seemed to rival that of the ocean. It was a well that had no bottom and overflowed with the quiet feeling. He was good, far too good for such a selfish, spoilt creature like myself.

With a start, I realized that I had been able to think of the man who had so decidedly shattered my heart mere months ago without feeling the soul-crushing weight I was used to. A sense of relief washed over me as I realized that the calm, and tender attentions of the Colonel had somehow gathered up the pieces and made the organ whole once more.

 _But does he_ _love_ _me?_

Blinking, I noticed that Colonel Brandon was now looking at me, true concern in his brown eyes, and I noted that I had been remiss in reading Beatrice's next line. I promptly did so...and yet, my eyes wandered from the page to gazing into his expressive orbs—forcing me to recite the words from memory instead. "As strange as the thing I know not. It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as you..." I trailed off as that expression that I had not been able to name, once again appeared in his eyes. But this time I knew what it was, for within my breast, I harboured the same feeling: love. His lips tugged upwards and I understood that, somehow, he knew what I felt for him without my uttering a single syllable.

Hastily, I returned my gaze to my book, afraid to see what he would do now that he was aware of my regard for him. "...but believe me not, and yet I lie not, I confess nothing, nor I deny...nothing..." A large, calloused hand came into view, closing gently over my own and I swallowed hard.

"Marianne." Never before had my name sounded so wonderful. "Marianne, might I...that is to say...would I be to presumptuous to ask for a private interview with you tomorrow afternoon?"

My pulse quickened, and I screwed up my courage just enough so that I was able to peer over at him from beneath my thick lashes. He was serious and yet, there was such an air of hope surrounding him that I could do nothing but respond.

"I would be honoured."

A boyish grin covered his features then, prying a much more gentle smile from me, but it was filled with just as much felicity as his.

"Thank you." He murmured, his hand slipping away from mine and I suddenly felt bereft without his touch, but I quickly squashed the feeling.

He loved me. I loved him. And it was all that I needed, though tomorrow could not come soon enough for me.

 **~Finis~**

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest"

~ Lady Beatrice Act IV of Shakespeare's _Much Ado About Nothing_


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